Back in the hospital, the darkness, the stony darkness, seemed to oppress him more than ever. Renna and her family had been like a soothing sun shower—like the one he’d felt on his face this afternoon in the park. It had been something of a holiday for him—at least until Matthew Benchley appeared. After that he sensed the atmosphere change.
Renna didn’t like Benchley one bit. He could tell by her actions and the tone of her voice. Had it taken a sightless man to figure that much out? Her parents hadn’t seemed to notice. But perhaps they had and he just didn’t realize it.
His mind wandered back on the outing. Shortly after the man had joined their picnic, Renna moved away from Benchley and closer to him. He had felt her tense on more than one occasion, and a sudden urge to protect her rose up within him. That urge surprised him. From what he could recall, he’d never felt that way before. And what a helpless feeling to be blind and desire to protect a woman. Ridiculous, actually.
Benchley. He rolled the name around his mind some more. It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
His fingers curled until he’d made tightly balled fists. Why, God? Why can’t I remember who I am? Is my blindness a punishment for things I’ve done in my past? You’ve allowed me to remember what a rake I’ve been . . .
Something Wendell Fields said flitted across his mind. “Trials aren’t meant to harm us but to make us more Christlike.”
Could it really be that God wanted to do some sort of miracle with his infirmities and in his life? Or had he been correct presuming they were retribution for living a godless existence all these years?
God, please . . . let me in on what You’re planning to do in my life.
A deafening silence replied. For now answers eluded him.
Making himself as comfortable as possible on this sorry excuse for a bed, he willed himself to fall asleep.
•••
Another gorgeous day. Renna sighed happily as she walked to work. A warm breeze blew her skirts around her ankles, and leaves dusted the sides of the street. In a month treetops would turn shades of orange and yellow and a flaming red. Standing on a hill in front of the hospital now, Renna turned and looked toward Lake Michigan. Ships dotted the horizon. She thought of her pirate. Hopefully their outing yesterday hadn’t been too much for him.
Entering the hospital, she found herself carried on a wave of business. In her ward, she fed those patients who weren’t able to eat, changed bedding, and shaved men’s beards.
Mr. Blackeyes was one of them.
“Are we alone, Renna?” He whispered the question.
“We’re as alone as we can be in a room filled with sick people.”
He grinned. “They’re all unconscious, I hope.”
Renna smiled, knowing he teased her. “Only three unconscious patients today. Two are asleep, and one is waiting for a bath.”
“I just don’t want to be overheard.”
“Speak softly then.”
“All right. Tell me about Matthew Benchley.”
Renna looked at the water basin in her lap. “I don’t know much.”
“Then tell me what you know. I’m curious.”
“He’s a new associate at the Chamber of Commerce and works with my father. He’s been there for about a month now.”
“What does he look like?”
“He’s got light brown hair and . . . ”
Renna recalled his iceberg eyes and wondered if she should disclose her thoughts. No. Best to remain objective.
“He’s got blue-gray eyes and a very straight nose.” She continued with her shaving. “Fairly even teeth, though he doesn’t smile much. When he does, it’s rather lopsided.” Cynical, is what she wanted to say, but she held her tongue. “And he reminds me of those men from the West—opportunity seekers. I met plenty of them during the war.”
“Opportunity seekers, huh?” Mr. Blackeyes grinned.
“Hold still.”
He kept talking anyway. “Do you mean to say that Matthew Benchley appears to be the sort who would take advantage of an unsuspecting young lady in order to seize an opportunity?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Mr. Blackeyes chuckled. “I sensed you didn’t like him, Renna.”
“Nurse Fields,” she corrected. She sighed and sat back. “All right. I admit it. You’re correct. There’s just something about him that makes me wary.”
“Even more than I do—a pirate?”
“Believe it or not, yes. Now, hold still.”
She finished shaving and put the razor and wash bin away. Then she allowed Mr. Blackeyes to get out of bed and stretch so she could straighten the linens. The night nurse had taken pity on him and rummaged through a box of donations, producing tan-colored trousers and a wrinkled white shirt. But even wearing those rumpled castoffs, he was still a handsome man.
“What do you look like, Renna—I mean, Nurse Fields?”
“Me?” The question caught her off guard. Her hand flew to her cheek, the one marred by the birthmark. “I–I’m just regular-looking, I guess. Nothing special, and certainly not anything like the ladies with whom you’re probably accustomed to socializing.”
Mr. Blackeyes acted as though he hadn’t heard her. “Could I . . . could I feel what you look like, Renna?”
Her mouth suddenly went dry at the thought of him touching her. “What on earth do you mean?”
“Please,” he persisted. “I–I just want to have an image of you in my mind—that is, I do already, but I’m wondering if it’s accurate.”
“Mr. Blackeyes, I don’t think—”
Before she could say another word, he stepped forward and touched her hair. Most of it was covered by her stiff white nurse’s cap. “What color is it?” he asked, rubbing a few strands between his thumb and forefinger.
Renna could only stand statue still. She’d never had a man touch her hair like this before. “Reddish-brown.”
“Curly?”
“Yes.”
“I can tell by its texture.” His hands moved to her face. “What color are your eyes?”
“Green,” she squeaked.
“Like emeralds.” His thumbs rubbed over her brows then down her cheeks. “Your skin is so soft . . . are you fair-skinned? With a smattering of freckles, perhaps?”
“Yes.”
“Most redheads are—and I speak of both males and females.”
Renna lifted a brow and immediately found her voice again. “Thank you for clarifying that, Mr. Pirate Blackeyes.”
He laughed and touched her nose. “Pert, just like your personality.”
Renna couldn’t help but smile now. Her father liked to lovingly tease her that way too. A pert little nose on a pert little girl . . .
Mr. Blackeyes touched her mouth then, and one finger lingered on her bottom lip for a long moment. Renna thought he seemed wistful, and she wondered why. A heartbeat later she sensed he wanted to kiss her. Somewhat frightened by the thought, Renna brought her head back, and Mr. Blackeyes moved his hands down to her chin and neck.
“You’re not very tall.” Once more he’d accurately assessed her. His hands went to her shoulders. “And you’re slight of build.” He gripped her by her upper arms. “But strong for a woman.”
“All right, that’s quite enough.” Renna stepped back out of his grasp. “There is nothing more for you to feel, so get back into bed.”
He smiled and, much to her surprise, complied without a single complaint. He surprised her further by saying, “I knew you were beautiful.”
Renna swallowed hard. She wasn’t beautiful. Not at all. She had an ugly purple birthmark on her face that made men gawk and stare. Why, she’d even caught Matthew Benchley gazing at it with an expression of regret. He might as well have said aloud, “I might have been attracted to you if it weren’t for that thing on your face. Doesn’t it come off?”
Of course, Renna was actually glad that Mr. Benchley wasn’t attracted to her. But that’s what Mr. Blackeyes would say once he regained his sight. He would look at her face in horror, and his illusion of her would be shattered.
I should tell him. I should tell him that I’m not the woman he imagines. Renna’s lips moved, but the words wouldn’t come. Somehow, somewhere, she’d formed her own illusions—that of an old maid becoming a new bride and marrying a pirate.
Oh, Lord, Renna whispered in silent prayer, this has never happened to me.
During the course of her nursing career she had taken care of hundreds of men. But maybe she’d grown soft. Maybe Nurse Rutledge had been correct, and she’d become too emotionally involved with her patient.
She’d have to do something about that.
With a renewed respect for her position, she finished up her day. She was cool, yet kind; skilled, yet sensitive. But when the time came for her to go home, she couldn’t help giving in to the urge to say good night to her pirate.
“You’re leaving already?” He seemed disappointed.
“I’ve been here for twelve hours. I’m afraid I’m tuckered out.”
He replied with a warm smile. “Go home and get some sleep, then. You deserve it.”
“Thank you. And don’t forget, my father is coming to visit you tonight. He’s been doing a bit of investigating and has collected a list of the names of persons presumed drowned in Lake Michigan from here all the way north to Green Bay, Wisconsin.”
“Good. Such a list may help jar my memory loose.”
“And Dr. Hamilton may be by to see you too,” Renna added. “He had a surgery to perform today, so he didn’t make his rounds earlier.”
Mr. Blackeyes’s grin turned wry. “I had better get an appointment book.”
Renna smiled at the quip. “Good night.”
A pause.
She stepped closer to his bedside. “Mr. Blackeyes?”
“I wish you wouldn’t go, Renna.”
His admission melted her heart. However, she knew she wouldn’t be any good to anyone if she didn’t get some sleep. “I’ll be back.”
When he didn’t reply, she forced herself to turn and leave the sick ward.
But all the way home her thoughts were crowded with him, the way he’d touched her hair, her face, her mouth. How could she tell him the truth about her appearance? She glanced upward at the darkening sky and sighed. When he regained his sight, he’d learn it for himself. Until that day came, she could imagine that he was a pirate and she was a beauty.